Die in a flash, but do it flashy!
by kstefan88
Summary: A series-to-be of mostly unrelated one-shots about characters out of the Manga dying - don't care if they are dead already. M mostly for gore and tasteless/lame humor. AU/OOC possible. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes

_Disclaimer_

Norihiro Yagi owns Claymore in its entirety.

I own what I did with his characters in its entirety.

_What is this?_

This is going to be a One Shot series in which I, by and large, will kill of characters I don't like. Gore, jokes-to-be, and other stuff you should not read while eating are and will be included. Enjoy.

First: Things you should not do, or: Nina, I hate you!

"Look, look, who have we got there? The little Colorhead from the north. How did a weakling like you survive?" she provokingly said with an evil grin in her face.

Clarice's face distorted and turned a slight bit red due to the provocation, but she kept her calmness.

Miata, who was holding her foster-mother's hand made a step towards Nina and turned her face towards hers. "Are you picking on Mama?" she asked Nina.

**Rule #1: Never pick on a mentally unstable Claymore's "mother".**

The latter made some steps towards Miata and bent herself forwards to arrogantly ask: "And what if, shorty?"

**Rule #2: Never call a mentally unstable Claymore "shorty".**

Miata then was gently but emphatically pushing her index and second finger into a dumbfounded Nina's mouth to get a good grip of Nina's under jaw.

"No saying bad things anymore," Miata calmly sated and in a fast movement of her right hand ripped Nina's under jaw off. The latter held the wound in her face and screamed and cried in sheer agony.

**Rule #3: Never make a mentally unstable Claymore that is able to rip your jaw off barehanded mad.**

"Oh my god, Miata!" Clarice shouted, but was unable to react. She was completely stunned due to the shock.

Nina was still overwhelmed by the pain she felt. Her blood was running out of her face like a water... er, bloodfall.

Tears started to run down Clarice's face due to the scene she saw. Tears that were lethally misinterpreted by Miata.

**Rule #4: Never make a mentally unstable Claymore's mama cry. Even if it isn't your fault.**

In an instant Miata had tackled Nina to the ground. Now the former was mounted on top of the latter. Miata's left hand shoved Nina's head into the ground, nearly making it burst. Miata's right hand was raised menacingly. Her eyes shone in a deadly golden color. With a voice that rivaled that of any Yoma, Awakened Being, wild beast or mother-in-law she growled at her utterly helpless victim: "NO MORE MAKING MAMA CRY!"

With the last word Miata's right hand dove into the chest of a whimpering, sobbing and shivering Nina to get a firm grip of her breastbone. Blood splattered all around as Miata ripped the bone that she had just gotten a hold of out of Nina's body - and therefore her chest open. Her hearth as well as both lungs were hurt in the process. In just a few seconds she was reduced from a living creature to a dying pile of flesh and bones.

**Rule #5: Never make a mentally unstable author's (mama) favorite character cry. Even if it's not your fault.**

Miata threw the breastbone away, arose and faced her Clarice. Her whole bodysuit and her right hand were read, even her face and hair were soaked in Nina's blood.

Clarice could not even cry. Tears were running down her cheeks in a steady flow, she was on her knees, not moving a single muscle. For a moment she wasn't even able to breath. Until Miata hugged her, that was.

"It's okay, mama," she said with the gentlest of voices, "no more bullying you."

Suddenly Clarice regained her senses. All she could do was cry loudly and press Miata against her chest to find at least a bit of comfort. What she had seen that day she would never be able to forget.

This way the two of them spent hours. The only one to occasionally talk was Miata, telling her mother that everything was fine.

* * *

Author's Notes

Honestly, no bullying our cute Colorhead!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes

_Disclaimer_

Norihiro Yagi owns Claymore in its entirety.

I own what I did with his characters in its entirety.

_What is this?_

We are in scene 69. Audrey, Rachel and two other warriors, that I won't name out of pity, are engaging Riful of the west. However, the ghosts weren't there at that time due to a certain warrior having a hangover.

Riful is in a bad mood due to a certain Awakened Being breaking after having made her mad. The way she is she is engaging Audrey, Rachel and her two comrades.

Second: If the one who's supposed to save you has a hangover, you're fucked, or: if the Abyssal one that's supposed to want to have you as allies rather than having you dead is in a bad mood, you're fucked

There she was, a giant hairy mess had built herself up in front of them. They had just finished an Awakened being hunt and talked about a certain warrior that had an unpleasant meeting with Miata in the first story of this series, who, along with her party and a cute color-head, miraculously was saved by "the ghosts of the warriors from seven years ago".

"Good day, Awakened Being hunters," was the greeting Riful gave them. "It is always nice to meet the warriors of the new generation, especially," she continued, impaling the ground with two strands of hair just inches away from Rachel's and Audrey's feet, "since you two seem absolutely delicious."

After a short pause, Riful suggested, that it would be nice if everyone were to introduce themselves, starting with the Single Digit, of course.

"Hold on," one of them, Rachel, demanded, "you can't just appear out of nowhere and start babbling like an idiot." For a moment, to me, she looked like that child-captain Hitsugaya of Bleach. Her hair was cooler, however. More spikiness.

"Stop it, _Ray_," one of her comrades demanded, getting her full attention. She lectured Rachel, that the Awakened One before them had been a comrade before and that they have to pay respect to their seniors. She then politely introduced herself and Rachel as the Organization's number 3 and 5. The fact, that there were two other warriors, was completely ignored (or forgotten) by her.

"My name is Riful. So pleased to meet you," the Abyssal one of the west responded. After Duff had angered her the evening before, she was looking for delight, after all. The two of them were exactly to her liking. The fact, that there were two other warriors, was completely ignored (or forgotten) by her.

After recognizing Riful as a creature of the Abyss, full of herself, Rachel asked what the great deal was. Audrey, her also high-ranking comrade, had the same _I-will-die-due-to-overestimating-myself-smile_ on her face, as Rachel.

After getting lectured again for being indelicate by Audrey, _Spikehead_ half-assedly apologized and stated, that she couldn't help it. Drawing her sword, she loudmouthedly said that the _old hag_ had to be shown, that times had changed.

Already having released some Yoki, enough to distort her face, to be precise, she swung her sword behind her and positioned its tip on the ground, having changed her smile from a _I-will-die-due-to-overestimating-myself-smile_ into a _I-will-try-to-kill-you-but-die-in-the-process-due-to-overestimating-myself-smile_.

Huh? What do you mean by "her face always looks that way?"

Rachel, however, who did not ignore (or forget) the fact, that two other warriors were there, just told them, that they would be in the way. She also stated, that she would take care of that crazy _Octopus woman_. Call me unimaginative, but exactly where does Riful resemble an octopus?

Riful then plainly stated, that she would teach Rachel the proper way to speak to her seniors. She had readied some of her strands to impale that woman's body in the places where it would hurt most. She shot them towards her, to find Rachel supposing, that that might not be necessary.

Having released enough Yoki to distort her face, she used the ground to build up force and strongly slash her sword through the strands Riful was trying to impale her body with.

Huh? What do you mean by "her face still always looks like that?"

While Riful was kind of praising Rachel for having such a neat technique, she was attacked from behind by Audrey with her Homing Missile, er, Sword technique. It also helped her to parry all the strands that Riful had sent to penetrate her body. In lethal places, of course, don't start thinking strange things!

Audrey then landed on the ground to effortlessly "parry" another attack from Riful. The latter's strands just stopped moving the moment they reached the tip of Audrey's blade. Gently she pushed them aside, to suddenly have them backfire on Riful – and Rachel.

The latter one's eyes both were penetrated by the attack that Audrey had just redirected back then. Having released enough Yoki to... wait, wrong pattern. Having both her eyes stabbed and her head impaled, Rachel had the delectation of dying a quick death.

Riful, noticing, that she missed herself by a hair but hit Rachel instead of Audrey, simply decided to not give a fuck and slowly increase the distance of the two strands that had impaled Rachel's head. The result was a skull being ripped into two and a brain falling to the ground, leaving a very gross sight. With a blunt sound the remainders of Rachel fell to the ground.

Suddenly a strange pain appeared in Audrey's right hand. She had not really noticed the fact, that, due to her actions, her best friend was killed in an instant. Neither she noticed, that her claymore – together with her hand – was falling to the ground.

Even though she felt the pain, she could not clearly see, what had happened. She just saw the result of Riful "treating" Rachel. She stood there like a pillar of salt, unable to move, think or notice the fact, that there were two other warriors.

One of Riful's strands gently winded itself around Audrey's neck and pulled her up to Riful's eye level. Riful then directed her view out of the panel she was drawn in and asked: "May I be a bitch?"

"I won't mind."

"Yay!" was her joyful response.

After she had directed her view towards her victim again, she gently fondled Audrey's face with some of her strands.

Slowly realizing the situation she was in, Audrey quietly stuttered: "W-why... m-me?"

The Abyssal One then slowly directed one of her strands to wrap itself around a bunch of Audrey's hair. She started to pull at it with quite a force. Audrey tried to keep her from doing so by grabbing the strand Riful pulled at with both her hands. For the left hand, it went fine, but she had completely forgotten that her right hand was gone – and ended up "grabbing" her face with the wound on her right arm.

Before the loathing could get a hold of her, Riful had ripped out the hair she had been pulling at. Together with a good portion of Audrey's scalp. Her right eyelid was gone, together with almost two thirds of her pericranium.

Her screams even made a swine, that was about to be butchered, sound happy. Riful wasn't done, however. She grabbed the remaining hair with another strand and ripped it off, too. With the second attack, half of her helpless victim's face was gone. Blood ran all about her. Even for a Claymore she suddenly looked very inhuman. Her nose, mouth and ears still were there, but her whole skullcap and forehead were skinned.

At that moment Audrey passed out due to the pain. The moment Riful noticed that, she said "No fun." Nonchalantly she threw Audrey into the ground (yep, I meant to say "into"). After having had nearly all her intestines damaged, Audrey's Yoki vanished, to never be felt again.

Riful, totally disappointed about how weak the Organization's number 3 and 5 were, left, to unleash her wrath on a certain Awakened Being, that always stuck together with her.

The fact, that there were two other warriors, was completely ignored (or forgotten) by the author. Still, he let them take a closer look on what had happened to their comrades. They really wanted to, but couldn't bring themselves to bury their former comrades. They just were not able to accept, that there were humans lying before them.

* * *

Author's Notes

I actually forgot them. Shame on me!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes

_Disclaimer_

Norihiro Yagi owns Claymore in its entirety.

I own what I did with his characters in its entirety.

_What is this?_

Scene 49 has passed. Galatea was so nice to make up a story to cover Jean and Clare. That did not work as well as she had planned, however. Well, I do not even think that she had planned on it to work. Whatever.

The Organization is not that happy with her blatant lie. To punish her they started sending her on, er, "difficult" jobs for a while.

Dear Galatea-fanboys: I am not to be made responsible for whatever nightmare you may have after reading this. Ye have been warned.

* * *

Third: What "being sent on difficult missions for a while" can mean, or – barbecue, Awakened size

Wow, was she wasted. Everything was dark and blurry, as she walked out of the town in sinus curves. Sinus curves with an amplitude of several meters and differing periods from a dozen meters to the front up to three meters to the back.

"Just what the hell had gotten her into such a messy state?" you might ask yourselves. Your wise narrator knows why:

For several weeks poor Galatea had to escape death roughly five times an hour (her own estimation). Well, actually, it was once every two or three days, but oh well. However, her jobs kept draining her very last nerve and will to live on. So poor Galatea decided to, I recite: "Give a damn fuck," go to next gin-mill in sight and drown her self in whatever kind of alcohol she'd be able to get there.

Faster done than said, she sat at a table, more or less together with some townspeople, and downed drink after drink. Gin, beer, Whiskey, beer, Schnapps, beer and the whole program again. For several hours.

Going to stop? – No.

Feeling embarrassed? – No way.

Filtering the alcohol? – Wait, what?

That way, Galatea's drinking continued. The only thing that was on her nerves was the damn music.

Reeking of alcohol? – Yep.

Having problems speaking? – Bits.

What is your name? - *Silence* - Whut wash she keshion?

And still there was that damn music. She had really been enjoying that evening. She had never thought that drinking together with other drunks could be that much fun. Until the stupid music, played by a jukebox, finally got the better of her.

Throwing over her table, straightening up furiously, sending all her booze buddies' drinks flying and burying some of them under the table, she yelled, giving the poor English language a dangerous sliding tackle: "WHOM HISH BASHTARDISH MUSHIC BELONGSH SHE AT?" (Rough translation: Which bastard is playing that stupid music?)

Well, after that – even though more due to the fact, that she had fragmented the whole pub into handy pieces – she was kindly but pressingly asked to "leave our fine establishment".

Now she was there, walking – well, "dizzying" is more appropriate of a term – through a forest late at night. Due to the cloudy sky there were neither stars nor the moon there to shine, so it was pitch dark around her.

Her way of dizzily stumbling around stopped the instant she bumped into something hard. Something very hard. That was all the input her brain needed to finally declare its utter displeasedness with its owner's way of drinking, and so temporarily shut off, letting Galatea fall to the ground.

The thing that she had just bumped into turned around to take a close look at whatever it was that had hit him just then.

"Looki looki," he said, "what a rather nice coincidence!"

* * *

Galatea was already cursing herself, as she slowly became aware of the darkness, the numbness and, last, but not least, a hangover comparable to a Leopard-2 rolling over her head. Multiple times.

'Never,' she was thinking, 'I will never, ever,' as she noticed a strange feeling in her wrists, 'drink again.'

She was still very drunk as she opened her eyes. She blinked, she yawned, she looked down... to notice, that there was kind a bit of space between her feet and the ground. About three meters. Then the strange feeling in her wrist became to sting very hard, it really, really hurt.

As she looked at her left wrist, her eyes widened in shock: a rod was driven through it. The same went for her right wrist. Just a few looks later she got a full picture.

Galatea was, by someone unknown to her "attached" to the branch of a tree, a fine three meters above the ground. For a moment she lost her calm and tried to shake herself loose – a drop from that height wouldn't have meant anything to her. She couldn't free herself, still. The worse thing was the pain she was inflicting to herself by struggling.

She ground her teeth, but got startled, as a deep, growling voice said: "Long time no see."

A huge humanoid Awakened Being suddenly landed in front of her, startling her even more and making the ground shake. The brown skinned being which close to always was in a crouch, rose a face yelling "braindeath" to Galatea's eye level.

The shock hit Galatea, as she realized, who she – for whatever reason – ran into. The awakened number 3 of the male generation, _Brawny Dauf_, the steady companion of Riful of the west.

"He," he chuckled, "so we meet again."

Galatea tried to struggle free again by using her Yoki, but it didn't work. Grimaces formed in her face due to the pain and due to the fact, that she could not release Yoki, nor sense Dauf.

"Nah, no use, baby," his deep voice declared, while he poked her stomach with a stick non gently, "found that handy pills in your clothes. Gave you all of them. Should keep you quite for some time."

At that moment Galatea realized her nakedness. She ignored the pain from Dauf's actions for a while to think. There was nothing much she could do. Even freeing herself would be nearly impossible, and even if she were to do that, Dauf could easily catch her again.

She was painfully ripped out of her musings, after Dauf had decided to not only poke Galatea with the stick but to impale her with it, since she had shown no intentions of paying attention to him. A high pitched scream hit the surroundings, followed by whimpering and sobbing from Galatea. Still, she had no intention of showing Dauf too much of her pain and instead ground her teeth once more and stared at him with eyes full of killing intentions.

"No looking scary, baby. You see, it's only fair. You and your friends cut me down, too, after all."

That being said, he turned around to place himself a bit farther away again.

Then he just watched, while occasionally shooting a rod out of his body towards Galatea. They missed her on intend and were only there to startle her and make her move. Ever then the pain got Galatea again. From time to time he also added a rod to her body, to give her a new source of pain she could scream because.

* * *

Six hours had passed. Galatea had given up any hope of escaping. Her whole body was aching, her face had changed from wet to dry and vice versa, the sounds she made had altered between screams of agony, whimpers and sobs of despair and the silence of the cracked, and her body was full of rods of diverse sizes.

And still, she was alive. Dauf, by far not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, still was smart enough to not hurt Galatea in lethal places. He had a grudge against her, after all, and had no intentions of ruining his fun by killing her too quickly. And he hadn't eaten yet.

That moment Dauf returned from collecting firewood. While militarily precisely arranging it under Galatea, he told her: "You know, you Claymores are not the tastiest of things out there. But with your skin covered in blood, your body filled with stress hormones and holes, to let the fire's smoke in, and after having all your muscles flagged due to hanging around for a while, you are a more than enjoyable feast."

Galatea heard his words, but didn't understand them clearly, until she noticed, that the monster in front of her actually arranged a huge pile of wood below her. The fear that had vanished a while before, suddenly returned, as she realized, that he was about to burn her alive – if she could be called that.

A begging gaze was directed towards Dauf, who saw it, and ignored it.

"That's your own damn fault, baby. Could have let you get killed fast, but you didn't want to. Cope with it."

"Please," Galatea's faint voice whispered out of the face of fallen one, "please just kill me."

Dauf heard the honesty in her voice. He also noticed the sick tremor in her eyes and face. Tipping his chin with his right index a few times while constantly humming, he acted as if he was about to reconsider, what actually got poor Galatea's hope up for a second.

The last remaining bit of Galatea's mind collapsed, as Dauf simply said: "Nah."

Dauf had already made a fire at the base of the two meters high pile of wood, as he – rod by rod – pulled them all out of Galatea's body. Some slow, some fast, to not let his victim get to used to the pain.

Galatea then started to cry again. Her helplessness was engraved into her face, her eyes were widened and her pupil's size was reduced. Her body shriveled, whenever she wanted to struggle against Dauf pulling out another rod.

After the last rod was gone and only the two that attached her to the tree were left, her body resembled a Swiss cheese, at best. All over her body there ran blood that was kept inside of her body due to the rods. Now that they were gone, she kind of looked like a wet sponge that was squished. Streams of blood were running into the fire were they were burnt instantly – one of Dauf's most favorite smells soon had filled the air.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed. He could not await a meal that had become a favorite to him a long time ago, but that he could not eat that much due to Riful: Claymore on a stick. Making a thinner rod, he grabbed Galatea's body with his thumb and index and brought her into position – to ram the rod inside her from "down below". And yeah, I mean exactly that one place.

A cry of agony that was to be heard several miles scared away every living being, including Yoma, in that area. Even though she had thought, that he could not have come up with something even more painful. Even though she had hoped, that even he had at least the tiniest bit of moral buried somewhere deep down inside of him. Even though she had feared the fire more than anything else. Now she was utterly violated, down to her very core.

As the fire reached her, she could only tremble from time to time. Crying was impossible. Whimpering was impossible. Sobbing was impossible. All left for her to do was to wait for the pain to eat her last spark of life away.

* * *

Author's Notes

May her fanboy's wrath fall upon me, but THIS was totally worth it! And, please imagine, I actually had planned it way worse for her. But I didn't want to waste all the ideas on just her.


End file.
